


The Same Page

by tielan



Series: Imagine Your OTP [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Curtain Fic, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: It’s not the most graceful way to bring up the topic, perhaps – just as he’s pulling on clothes, as she’s hauling the bedcovers up to a semblance of ‘made’; a domestic, ordinary moment that’s so very not the lives they're going to be living.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine your OTP...discussing having children. Also: Trope Bingo _curtain fic_

Maria knows Steve wants children; it’s a normal enough desire.

The morning he confesses that he thought maybe Tony was going to announce his fatherhood in Berlin, she knows it’s now or never.

“I don’t think I’m able to have kids.”

It’s not the most graceful way to bring up the topic, perhaps – just as he’s pulling on clothes, as she’s hauling the bedcovers up to a semblance of ‘made’, a domestic, ordinary moment that’s so very _not_ the lives they were going to be living – but it’s the only thing she can think of to say. And it’s better to let him know now than to leave him hoping for something that’s not going to happen. Even if it means he walks away sooner rather than later.

He pauses in the act of buttoning his jeans, looking at her in that considering way he does, like she’s just presented him with an objective and he’s thinking about how to achieve it. “You’re sure?”

“It’s highly unlikely.” She plumps a pillow and doesn’t look at him. “I was low fertility to begin with, and— There’s scar tissue—”

Steve’s seen the scars, traced them with fingers and lips, although he’s never asked how she got them. She never thought she’d be so grateful or so resentful of that grace. But isn’t that one of the reasons she’s in too deep?

She can almost hear him considering the options. “Did it— Did you want—?”

“I’m not...I’m not really in a position where it would be safe to have dependents.”

And that sounds really bloodless. Calculated in terms of practicality. Only...isn’t that more or less the crux of her relationship with Steve – desire, yes, but also commonality: captain and commander, fighting in a war that stretches farther and longer and more delicately than most people can see?

He drops his gaze and nods. “Okay. Look, I don’t even know if I can...I mean, we never checked if I was...uh...able. And then, there’s the serum and whether they’d inherit my original genetic issues... I don’t—I wouldn’t want to put my kid through what I went through—I know there’s screening these days but it’s still...”

There’s a part of Maria that sometimes wonders what a man like this is doing with her. How she got so lucky, when there are other women – prettier, more sexy, whom the world would probably prefer he dated—

Maria puts that thought aside and goes to him, wraps her arms around him, her head tucking over his shoulder. She tries not to shiver at the scent of him, the heat of just-showered flesh seeping swiftly through her sleeping tee, but it’s not easy. The mornings are too warm for heating, but still a little crisp. “You want children, though.”

“Someday. Maybe. We can adopt,” he says lightly. “That would solve a host of problems, even if it didn’t fix the major one.”

She draws back a little so she can see his face, frowning. “Major one?”

“Making a child we loved a target,” Steve says, as though it’s obvious.

The breath soughs out of her, a whisper of relief that they're on the same page about their biggest problem with having kids – not whether they can but whether they _should_. “Yeah, that’s the bit that worries me most.”

His arms tighten around her a little. “How about we worry about that after we’re allowed to be ourselves in public.”

“ _I_ can be myself in public,” she points out, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “It’s not _my_ fault you’re an internationally wanted criminal.”

“One more reason to shelve the discussion,” he says with a sigh. “But we can still try, right?”

The teasing, almost hopeful note in his voice makes her smile and she allows her hands to drift down to the sleek fit of his jeans over his buttocks, easing him up against her. “There are _definitely_ no laws against trying.” 


End file.
